


Monkey Say, Monkey Do

by jeweniper



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, UkaTake Week, anyway here, rambling fluff, so tired of looking at this lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweniper/pseuds/jeweniper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ittetsu Takeda is not a persuasive guy, but don't tell Ukai that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monkey Say, Monkey Do

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for ukatake week, day one. This is the worst week for it, since I'm in the middle of finals and had to work, but it's up before midnight, so I'm glad! I guess the style is a little loose, most of it is chronologically ordered flashback, so hopefully you like it. Also hopefully? They're not wildly OOC??

“No way,” Ukai calls immediately to Ittetsu Takeda’s hopeful expression and the tiny volleyball keychain dangling from his petit hand. The retreat of the smaller man’s smile causes a brief pang of guilt to shoot through his middle, but matching cell phone straps? Ukai had to draw the line somewhere, and they hadn’t been high schoolers for a long time.  
Despite the rejection, the teacher’s lips remain slightly lilted as he responds, “I figured you’d say that. I never have been very persuasive.” Ukai chokes in surprise. Gives him an incredulous look. His blank expression doesn’t disappear, instead morphing into a lopsided grin that begs, “What?”

“…Are you serious?” He wheezes, a flood of memories from their relatively short acquaintanceship (soon friendship, and then relationship—which Ukai would still start at in disbelief some mornings while brushing his teeth), suddenly washing through his mind.  
 

* * *

  
::01::

  
The sun hung low in the sky, swathing the team in a heavy blanket of magenta sunset as they all slowly plodded home from practice. Ukai didn’t even play and he felt the infection of fatigue, but while they still had a lot of kinks to work out, he felt positive about the overall atmosphere of the team. He glanced to the right, and then down into the black fringe swaying beside him with each of Takeda’s steps. Unnoticed by anyone around him, his features pulled unannounced into a slight grimace, something cool yet soft like marshmallow ballooning in his gut. He didn’t know how to feel about the teacher yet, but despite the very…assertive way in which he convinced Ukai to coach, the faculty advisor had thankfully settled into a much more easy-going personality.

  
“MAAaaannn I’m so fuckin’ HUNGRY,” Tanaka groaned, jolting Ukai out of his musing.

  
“Well you’re not coming to the store, so suck it up ‘till you get home,” He established, watching Sugawara scold the second year about language.  
Takeda leaned into Ukai a bit, nudging an elbow right into his middle, but off to the side as though not entirely sure they were close enough for a full-on abdominal attack. Not that it mattered, for the way the hesitant touch spread like a fire over the soft mass still nestled in Ukai’s chest, toasting the edges into something warm.

He frowned.

“Come on, Ukai,” the teacher began, “their money’s as good as anyone else’s and they worked so hard today!” His suggestion is chorused by the team, but it’s the small grin on Takeda’s face, as though one of those curls of his was whispering bad jokes into his ear, that held his attention.

  
Coughing the image out of his mind, he roughly ruffled the closest first year’s—Hinata’s—head and relented, “fine, but only because you guys’re paying customers.” I mean, obviously. It’s not like he had changed his mind because of a change of heart. His heart had actually had the least influence in the decision. He coughed again.

::02::

  
“Ukai, you _never_ stay out for drinks anymore!” Shimada whined, dramatically laying a thin hand over his right shoulder. Despite this (totally unwarranted, rather childish) invasion of personal space, Ukai was still distinctly aware of the petit form in his blind spot, probably grinning softly through the folds of his green jump suit.  
He turned away, sighing amiably, “yeah, but I’ve got to take care of stuff at the end of the matches and then the timing’s bad, you know that.” It was a flimsy excuse, but one that had gotten him through these first few practice matches of the season. Because as reluctant as he was to admit it, the initial wariness and then intrigue he had felt about Takeda Itettsu had not waned with time. In fact, the more time he spent with the man, the more he found himself drawn to his enthusiasm, his overly-poetic encouragements, and his presence overall. _And those eyes_ , his mind snuck in.

“Yeah Ukai, let us celebrate your win for once!” Takinoue added, draping himself over Ukai’s other side—but his additional weight failed to bring the coach out of his thoughts. Ukai wasn’t a fool. Somewhere between thanking the days that were too warm for sensei’s jump suit and daydreaming about fluffy heads of hair fitting beneath his chin and getting way too excited whenever a certain teacher dropped by the store unannounced, Ukai figured out what was going on—he wanted to jump sensei’s bones. And kind of be around him all the time.  
But this wasn’t one of those shoujo manga Asahi read in the locker room, and if he at least limited his interactions with Takeda to the work sphere, he’d have a shot at maintaining his dignity, keeping his friendship, and likely not getting disowned by his parents. It was perhaps a pathetic outlook, but a realistic one nonetheless. He snuck a troubled glance at the teacher, who watched the three patiently, before catching Ukai’s eye and smiling a little wider, the grin tickling up through his eyes. When the smile refreshed a part of him that he didn’t know needed it; Ukai imagined how nice the night could be. Surrounded by friends, having a dark malt beer after a long day, leaning in to hear Takeda’s undulating voice beneath the sounds of the bar…catching the harsh glow of illuminated drinks and polished furniture repackaged in the warm depth of brown eyes…the loosened tie and lessened distance afforded to coworkers after hours…

Ukai gulped in a suddenly dry throat. _No, no, no_. It was way too dangerous. He turned to a pouting Takinoue, newly-resolved to weasel out of yet another night out when Takeda suddenly gasped.

“Oh, Ukai,” Takeda began with a measure less sincerity than usual; “there’s no need to be so worried that your senior will out-drink you!” A false smile slowly floated over his face and he finished, “nobody expects you to beat me.”

Ukai almost short-circuited, a violent crimson exploding over the bridge of his nose before he could calm himself. In all this time, he had never seen an expression so far-removed from uncertainty, embarrassment, or contentment on Takeda’s face—let alone one so devilish yet still suited to his wide eyes and friendly mouth. Such a good-humored jab was surely the older man’s attempt to invite him more as _friends_ than _coworkers_. Or, at least that was how Ukai read it. _This is a bad idea_ , he realized, finally gaining control of his complexion. Despite that, he slowly found himself unable to care. “Okay,” he muttered in a distracted voice, eyes still on Takeda’s, “let’s go celebrate.”

::03::

Ukai refilled the bowl with wasabi peanuts, idly listening first to Takeda’s light footsteps across the linoleum in his kitchen and then the delayed release of the fridge door that always accompanied his particular rhythm in opening it. He suddenly remembered reorganizing the contents earlier that day and prepared to guide his friend to the beers, only to watch him emerge with them in hand moments later. Of course Takeda had found them without trouble—he knew Ukai’s apartment (as well as his habit to put one beer in the crisper and the rest behind the eggs) almost as well as Ukai did. Fluidly, Takeda nudged the bowl closer to Ukai’s outstretched fingers and then placed both drinks on the table while coming down to sit. Ukai smiled into his reflection on the polished surface—honestly, Takeda was such a nice guy. And yet even now Ukai couldn’t help but admire the flicker of writing calluses in between sensei’s fingers and wonder how they felt on his skin.

Yeah, Takeda was a way better friend.

Yet despite Ukai’s (embarrassingly frequent) daydreams, he and the wholesome teacher actually had become rather close. They’d work together at school, chat idly if Sensei was free enough to stop by the store when it wasn’t busy, and get together more nights of the week than not, either to have a few drinks and play a card game—like tonight—or even just be in each other’s company while Ukai strategized for the team and Takeda graded papers. Ukai dealt the cards out, trying to remember when Takeda coming over became the norm rather than the exception.

“Oh, I found the other 4 of spades we were looking for the other day,” Takeda mentioned, chuckling to himself, “it was in the bathroom for some reason.” Ukai decided there had never really been a moment that things “changed”. They played in an easy silence for a bit, he occasionally glancing up from his hand to watch the progression of sensei’s face from triumph to confusion, down into despair before spiking up into hope once again. Sometimes Takeda beat him, but the real treat was watching his complete lack of a poker face.

“So,” Takeda began, flicking a jack onto the pile in a low-risk move, “I’d say you and I are pretty good friends, right?” The beer in his mouth immediately soured like milk after a cigarette. Was this a trick question? Had the older man finally wizened up to the many instances of Ukai’s less-than-kosher glances? He nodded jerkily.

Unaware of the coach’s anxiety, Takeda continued, “I thought so too. And I was thinking—it’s a little weird to keep calling me sensei outside of work, right? And Takeda just seems so formal. So I was wondering if I could get you to call me by my first name instead!” At this modestly presented request, they both happened to simultaneously reach for the bow, hands brushing ever so innocently.

Ukai froze, blinking in the center of Takeda’s gaze. Or rather, “I-Ittetsu?” he croaked, the syllables a forbidden sip of wine on his tongue. To quash the butterflies now hovering just above his diaphragm, he slowly removed his hand and frowned uneasily, slapping a six on the pile. Ah, he’d wanted to play a different card. “Ha ha, but I’m younger than you, it’d be a little weird right,” He questioned, thankful for the excuse. He looked up from the game, surprised to see an unreadable expression on sensei’s face.

“Hmm, you’re pretty strait-laced for a 20-something delinquent if that’s your problem,” Takeda retorted, grinning lightly. The butterflies multiplied. “I suppose you’re right, but” Ukai watched as Takeda scratched an itch on his neck, accidentally exposing a bit of his collarbone, “I’d rather feel closer to you than like an old guy, you know?” His smile got a bit evil, pulling up on the left the way it sometimes did, “but I got the feeling you were a stubborn guy. Two can play at that game,” he paused to lean forward, unfortunately giving Ukai a better view of the collarbone that curled invitingly into the rest of his shirt. Ukai forced his eyes back up in time to see the lamp shine on the dark pool of sensei’s irises. “So I’d like to call you Keishin if you won’t call me Ittetsu,” he finished.

Something low in his abdomen erupted with tickling flames and Ukai struggled to keep his expression neutral. “I-I _guess_ that’s fine. Since we’re friends,” he finally agreed, feeling a little guilty. But having Takeda call him by his first name was something he couldn’t dream of having happen in real life. And close friends did that all the time, so Ukai wasn’t doing anything wrong just because he got a special enjoyment out of it.

Takeda finally leaned back, letting the charged atmosphere refill with the neutral space of the room. He picked up his cards, mildly declaring, “Keishin, it’s your turn.” If saying Takeda’s name was a sip of wine, hearing his own name from the older man’s lips was like floating in a vat of that wine without a care in the world. He replayed the sound in his head, letting it engulf the sides of his brain with the ease of a rising tide. The whisper of a soft smile tugged at his lips, and he envisioned feeling this sensation _every time_ they talked to each other outside of work. _On second thought, maybe I can’t handle this_ , he admitted, forcibly pulling himself back to the present.

He played a card and immediately lost what it was to the liquid still seeping in his brain. “Actually Takeda, I do want to be close with you, but calling me Keishin is a bit—“

“Then call me Ittetsu,” he interrupted easily, not meeting Ukai’s eyes.” _Keishin_ , his brain repeated. Ukai’s toes curled beneath the table.

“But sensei,” Ukai pleaded, sneaking his card hand over his front, “I just don’t want you to—“

“It’s just my name, Keishin,” Takeda murmured, following the condensation tracks on his beer with a finger. “Or are we not that close of friends? I don’t want to push you into anything uncomfortable.”

He surrendered with a fold of his cards. “It’s your win, Ittetsu. Shuffle the deck, would ya?”  
 

* * *

 

“Why?” Ittetsu finally calls, returning Ukai to the present. “Would you say persuasion is one of my skills?”

Ukai briefly flicked through all of the memories, recognizing an embarrassing pattern not based on his boyfriend’s “skills” but more on his own complete inability to refuse him. “Nah,” he began, drawing out the vowel as he formed his response, “just thinking I might want that charm after all.”


End file.
